“That Suleau,” he was thinking, half mazed, “did he jockey me; and was it St Denys after all?”
He looked at the stressed and wild-wrought creature before him in sombre pity.
“So M. de St Denys has left Méricourt?” he said gravely.
At that Mademoiselle Lambertine broke into a shrill laugh.
“M. de St Denys? But who spoke of M. de St Denys? It was he, was it not, that waived his privileges of honour that he might be on a level with us that have none? And why should he leave Méricourt, where he was ever a model and an example of all that he preached?”
“It cannot have been he, then, that I saw in Paris?”
The girl gasped, stared, and took a forward step.
“You saw him? And he was amongst the killed?”
“Théroigne!”
“Monsieur, monsieur! We have heard how the people rose; we are not here at the bounds of the earth.”